Laura

Sometimes a song is just too raw to listen to. Laura from 1967 is such a song,

“Laura hold these hands and count my fingers,

               Laura, touch these lips you once desired

               Lay your head upon my chest and hear my heartbeat

               Gently run your fingers through my hair….”

               It was the best breakup song ever. A little harsh at the end, but the tune kept pulsing through my brain. I knew a bit about breakups. Sadness, anger, jealousy, even revenge. Every time the song came on the radio, I sang along. It came from the bottom of a shattered soul and It was gut-wrenching. It crushed me as it hit home. God, I loved that song.

               I first heard it in the winter of 1967. I lived alone in a widow lady’s basement near the college. I spent my days studying History, Economics, and British Lit. Nights were spent in the honky-tonks of Havre. For money, I got by on $100 a month from the VA. It wasn’t much of a life.

            “Laura touch these ears that listened to your wishes

               Most of them, fulfilled and that’s a lot

               Let your soft, gentle hands caress my body….”

            By that time I knew a thing or two about love. Casual infatuation, fleeting ecstasy, eyes that melted anxious hearts. It always ended badly for me. That’s why I loved breakup songs. I cranked the volume up every time Leon Ashley sang, 

“ Laura, see these walls that I built for you

               Laura, see this carpet that I laid

               Laura, count the dresses in your closet

               Note the name upon the checkbook in your bag….”

               Well maybe I hadn’t been that far into any of my failed romances, but they still hurt a bit. There are lots of ways to breakup and there’s a good breakup song to cover every one of them. “Breaking up is hard to do,” but “I hope that the train from Caribou, Maine runs over your new love affair.” You get the picture.

               That winter I had an acquaintance living in the room next to mine. We shared a refrigerator and a bathroom. The rent was cheap. Jim was just out of the Navy. I had a hell of a lot more in common with him than the fresh-faced kids in my Econ 102 class. We had been places. We had done stuff. We told stories. Some of his were true.

               There was one thing different about us. Jim was in love. No, not that casual fling stuff I knew about. He was hopelessly devoted to a young lady named Sarah. I knew who Sarah was. Unlike the women from my side of the tracks, she was an angel from a good family. A damn good looker too.

               Jim had asked Sarah to marry him. After consulting her family, she put him off. He was a lowly meatcutter at the local slaughter house. He had working man hands. Worse yet, they were covered with mercurochrome from all the cuts he got at work. He’d have to show a bit more promise before he won this fancy lady’s hand. Jim doubled down. He worked long hours and saved every penny. He rarely joined me at the local gin joints. He was a serious young man. I had to respect that.

               The one pleasure Jim allowed himself was playing his guitar. Through the thin wall I could hear him well into the night as he crooned the latest country songs. His strumming soothed me as I studied economic curves. His singing wasn’t bad either.

               One night I met Jim coming down the stairs. He looked shaken, stunned, sad.

               “What’s up man?”

               “Sarah broke up with me. Took up with some rancher from down in the Breaks.”

               “It happens,” I consoled him, not having a clue as to how bad he was hurting. His eyes looked a little red. “Maybe sailors do cry,” I thought.

               “It’ll be all right, there’s lots of fish in the sea,” I said still not understanding the depths of his despair. How could I know his pain, never having lost someone whose soul had mingled with mine.

               Jim just shook his head glumly. I hadn’t been much help. We parted and went to our rooms.

               A few minutes later, I heard him strumming his guitar. Then he began to sing.

             “Tell me what he's got that I can't give you

               Must be something I was born without

               You took an awful chance to be with another man….”

               “O.K. He’s working it out,” I thought. “It can’t be any worse than my last breakup. He’ll get over it. Damn fine song though.”

               He strummed along without singing for a while. Then his plaintive voice came through the wall.

            “So tell me what he's got that I ain't got

               Tell me what he’s got that I ain’t got

               Laura, what’s he got that I ain’t got?….”

               “That’s it!” I thought. “The guy is jealous. That’s why he’s singing such a whiny breakup tune.” Then the chorus hit me.

“Laura, see those fancy curtains on the windows

               Touch those satin pillows on your bed

               And if there’s time before I pull this trigger

               Then tell me what he’s got that I ain’t got…”

               “Crap!” I knew he had a gun. Would he use it? Nah. He’s just a dumb-ass country boy like me. No way.  Then he began again, his voice quaking.

            “Sarah, hold these hands and count my fingers

               Sarah, touch these lips you once desired

               Lay your head upon my chest and hear my heartbeat

               Gently run your fingers through my hair….”

               Sarah? That was different. I closed my Econ text and listened.

               “Let your soft gentle hands caress my body

               And then tell me what he’s got that I ain’t got….

            I jumped to my feet and barged through his door before he got to the part about 

“And if there's time before I pull this trigger…”

He was sitting forlornly on his bed with his guitar on his lap. The gun was beside him; cold, heavy, unloved.

               “Get your sorry ass off that rack!” I commanded. “We’re gonna go get drunk!”

               The juke box played a lot of sad old country songs that night. I used every quarter I had to make sure none of them were called Laura.

               EPILOGUE:  Jim and Sarah are real people whose actual names I have long since forgotten. I remember that night every time I hear the song. “Jim” healed faster than I expected. A few weeks after the breakup, he bought a brand-new ’67 Pontiac Firebird. A red one.

LDT October 9, ‘24

               Leon Ashley topped the Billboard Country Chart with Laura in 1967. The song has been covered by many other artists, including Tom Jones, Marty Robbins, and Kenny Rogers. I prefer Ashley’s version. My breakup song was “Thank God and Greyhound You’re Gone.” What song got you through your breakup?

Laura- Leon Ashley- https://youtu.be/DnGQ_2JA1LQ